"Ow," Helaena let out a sharp hiss as Aemond tended to the wound on her forearm. It was a nasty cut from a crossbow bolt that had nearly missed her. It hadn't hit her but sliced up her arm. They were firing at Dreamfyre during the battle. Helaena had swooped down attacking the army with Dragonfire, although had apparently gotten too close considering a crossbow bolt had sliced her arm. Luckily as soon as the bolt cut Helaena, Dreamfyre took off, flying higher and out of range of the army's weapons.
Helaena let out a groan as she hit the ground, she coughed as the breath was pushed from her lungs, staying were she laid on the ground waiting until she could breath properly.
“Again,” she said, pushing herself up from the ground and grabbed the practice sword that had fallen from her grasp moments before. Helaena stood and dusted herself off with her free hand before looking towards Aemond, “I want to go again.” She tightened her grip on the sword.
Helaena was in training clothes, pants and a shirt with boots, her hair braided and tied back out of her face. She had finally convinced Aemond to train her in combat. After what had happened to their son, Helaena changed, she no longer wanted to take a back seat in the war her family were fighting. No, she wanted to fight and she wanted to get revenge for her sweet boy. She had approached Aemond a few times about training her to fight and he had refused until she said she would go to Coke to train if he didn’t help her. Of course she would not have done so, but it convinced Aemond to train her.
Alicent of course was not happy with such an arrangement and that made Helaena want to learn to fight all the more. She worked hard and practiced several times a day, most of the time having to be told to or made to take a break.
“You’re not… one of mine.” He stated slowly, flaring his nostrils to find a foreign scent.
The pup froze in the doorway; ready to bolt. Fear began to cloud the faint traces of scent he’d managed to find and Bruce concentrated on controlling his own to only project calm.
“It’s okay.” He soothed. “I know you didn’t just show up uninvited.” Gods, the boy was tiny. He couldn’t be any more than eight. And an omega. What was he doing here?
“Are you hungry?” A hand gently motioned to a chair.
The pup flinched. Flinched. It made his heart ache.
Blue eyes stared at him warily as the boy spoke, words low, “Just because Blackwing claimed me as his pup doesn’t mean -”
“He did what?!” Words burst from Bruce’s chest in surprise as he half rose out of his chair.
The boy flinched again, so slight he almost missed it, and he cursed. Shit. He had to be careful.
Gentling his tone, he tried again. “I’m sorry, I’m just surprised. Please, come eat.”
The boy shook his head and turned to flee - Right into his eldest son.
Damian.
“Jason.” The alpha rumbled, low and soothing. Almost instantly some of the pup’s tension washed away. “I see you found the breakfast room.”
A nod. A hand gently carded through black hair. “It’s safe, little kit. Father won’t harm you.”
“D-dami, he’s Batman!”
Bruce grimaced at the choked whisper.
“He’s your grandfather, habibi, and Pack Lead. He will care for you.”
Seeing the hesitance, Damian picked the boy up as if he weighed nothing (which he practically did - they were going to have to feed him) and carried him over to Bruce.
“Father, this is Jason. I will be adopting him.”
He’d thought he’d managed to eliminate that imperious tone from his son’s voice... for the most part, anyway. The alpha must be anxious about Bruce’s true reaction for it to make a reappearance.
“I see.” The alpha solemnly stated. Really. It was just like his son to corner him with a frightened pup so he couldn't react the way he wanted. “Welcome to the pack, Jason.”
He leaned forward and swiped a cheek over the boy’s head, marking him with his scent, with pack scent, and pressing a swift kiss to his forehead.
Despite the surprise, warmth and pride stirred in his chest at the cautiously awed look in the pup’s blue eyes. Eyes like his own. His pack was growing and it could only get stronger.
Jason was a wonderful addition. (He was already thinking about all the things the omega would need.)
Age reversed Damijay, please? It could be romantic or platonic. Any direction you choose to take it would be amazing! Thank you
I hope you don’t mind that @workingchemistry sort of commandeered your prompt. Much thanks to @elloryia for, frankly, spelling out how this blurb should go.
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At My DoorHe was going to intervene. Really, he was. But frankly, this moment was golden.
Damian was tense, though. Ready to step in the second it looked like he was needed.
A tire iron swished through air and thunked heavily into the stomach of a snarling alpha. The tiny pup was beating the hell out of him and his partner. Blackwing could catch the scents of rising fury and fear on the wind.
It might be time to -
Crack.
Oof.
Or not.
The kid had it well handled.
“You little brat!” The partner snarled, tripping over the unconscious - Damian flicked a glance at the blood pooling under his head - possibly dead body of his partner. “Once I get my hands on you, it’s straight to the harem houses!”
A growl rumbled to life in Blackwing’s chest. How dare he! No one deserved that fate, let alone a child! He drew his sword in preparation for entering the fight and stopped as howl rent the air.
The little warrior had taken out a kneecap, swiftly following with another blow to the side of the head. His second, and last, opponent down the boy collapsed to his knees and clutched a hand to his ribs.
Shit. He should have entered the fight. The pup had been hurt.
He stepped out of the shadows and into the alley. The boy scrambled to get to his feet, hand clenching convulsively around the tire iron. Blackwing’s eyes flicked to the Batmobile half a block away. He could see two tires missing and felt the edges of his mouth twitch.
Father was going to be pissed.
“Blackwing?!” The boy gasped.
Damian tasted the air. Omega. Not that he was surprised after the comment made by the thug. Packless with only his own immature milk scent covering his skin. Injured. Hungry. Orphan.
Mine.
A low comfort rumble started in his chest. He saw the boy’s shoulders drop a bit in response before he tensed up again, shaking himself.
“That was very well fought, little one.”
“You gonna take me in?” The boy asked, fear spiking in his scent and blue eyes looking suspiciously bright.
“Why would I do that?” Damian asked, carefully stepping closer.
He gestured to the bodies, “Think I mighta’ killed ‘em.”
Damian couldn’t care less about that. An ambulance and GCPD were already on their way.
“I think they deserved it if you did.” Damian paused. “What’s your name?”
A shifting of feet.
A glance at the ground
“Jason.”
He waited. There was more.
“Jason Todd.”
Blackwing nods slowly. “You are a credit to your name.” Quick. Clever. Vicious. Like a fox. “And you will be a credit to mine.”
“What?”
With a quick movement, he scooped Jason into his arms - ignoring the outraged squawk - and settled him on his hip. He rumbled again in comfort, urging the fear out of the pup’s, out of his kit’s scent.
Deft fingers carefully pulled off one his masking patches. He leaned forward and coated his new son in his own spicy alpha scent.
A sharp inhale met his actions. The boy - Jason - fisted his hands in Blackwing’s costume. A confused whine slipped from his throat quickly followed but a pleased purr. There was no mistaking the action for anything but a pack claim.
“You’re mine, little kit.”
He needed food and a bath and a nest. In that order.
Ahhh that latest blurb for the Warrior verse now has me wondering how Talia would/will react when she finds out that her son has taken after his father
@atasteforsuicidal mentioned something like this, too! So two for one fill! 💕💕😍
The Longest Distance
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Bruce wondered how many times he could ignore the call before she decided to just appear in Gotham. He didn’t think it was many. Sighing, the alpha answered the phone.
“What did you allow my son to do?”
“Good afternoon, Talia.” He remarked dryly. “So wonderful to hear from you.”
“Don’t get smart with me, Beloved.” Bruce rolled his eyes.
"Talia, Damian is an adult. I don't let him do anything. ‘Your son’ makes his own decisions."
She clicked her tongue. "When he is acting thus he is decidedly your son."
Of course. He suppressed a growl. This. This is why they hadn't mated. It had nothing to do with her father at all and everything to do with how aggravating the omega woman was.
It had everything to do with her father and the League and how different their values were. How manipulative Ra’s was. How toxic. Even today he still loved her.
Quietly, she added, "You know his grandfather will kill the pup. He is not Al Ghul blood."
Bruce couldn't suppress the snarl that rose from his throat. "If Ra's sets one foot into Gotham, he'll regret it!"
She purred soothingly through the line. "I will keep him out. For as long as I can.” Silence stretched on the line. “He has his methods, Beloved."
“I know."
He'd already taken that into account. Already put plans into place. He wouldn't risk the life of his new grandchild -- the pup of the pack -- on a lack of strategy. Not when one of his greatest threats was his own great grandfather.
"What is he like?" Talia asked, the longing well hidden in her voice. To anyone but Bruce.
"You could call him, you know."
"I cannot." Her voice was stiff -- immovable.
"You could."
She sighed, "You know why."
"You're both being ridiculous. He misses his dam."
"It's better this way."
"For whom?" Bruce turned in his chair, arching an eyebrow at himself at the reflection in the window.
"Enough of this! Tell me of my grandson!"
Shaking his head, Bruce began to talk.
Of the laughter that the pup -- the kit, as Damian insisted -- brought into the manor. The light. On the other end of the world, the Daughter of the Demon wished.
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Damian and Jason recognized something in each other. Something that called. Jason couldn’t explain it.
He was young.
He didn’t understand.
He just knew that when Blackwing scented him - claimed him as his pup, and took him home - he suddenly felt truly safe for the first time in his life.
It was, frankly, the only thing that made the rest of the night as easy for Damian as it was. The alpha barely let go of the tiny omega the entire way back to the Manor that night. Jason just… clung to him, nose buried in his neck. Inhaling his scent.
All the fear and anxiety and adrenaline of the night - of the last two years - slowly draining out of him as he trembled. Blackwing’s warm arm wrapped tightly around him. Reassuring him of his new protector’s strength.
When the mask came off Jason didn't even recognize Damian Wayne, princeling of Gotham's resident ruling family, at first. He was more concerned with the food placed in front of him and the warm blanket around his shoulders.
It didn't hit him, who Blackwing (and therefore who Batman) was until he was clean and clothed in an old of Superman pajamas and tucked into a warm nest. Until he was nearly asleep, curled into the alpha; blankets and warm arms a barrier to the outside world.
Holy. Shit.
He nearly had snapped awake again, but the realization was dismissed just as quickly as it hit.
It just meant he was dreaming.
That was way more likely that all of it being real. Maybe he was sick. He felt warm, but that must be fever. He must be in his little nest, way up in the rafters of one of the condemned buildings in the Alley.
Jason squashed his disappointment. Paupers don’t become princes. Fairytales weren’t real. Street rats didn’t get adopted by billionaires.
But he could pretend for tonight.
Tucking himself further into Blackwing’s - Damian’s - chest, he let himself drift to sleep. Savoring the feeling of being safe and warm.
Hello! I've just discovered your fics the other day and I love them so so much, you really are an amazing writer! I wanted to ask if you would ever write more for that A/B/O AU in which Damian is older and an Alpha and claims Omega Jason as his son? Because honestly it's really awesome and like nothing I've ever read before, the dynamic is just great. I wanted to ask if you could maybe write Dami dealing with Jason dying and coming back to life in that AU? Or anything else really, it's amazing ❤
I definitely plan to write more for that! I’m trying to figure out how to go about the second arc of that story line! It’ll come eventually. I’m glad you enjoy it! It’s one of my favorites.
@elloryia deserves much thanks for assistance in titling and editing. <3
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Jason’s heart pounded in his ears. He was sure it was going to burst out of his chest as he swung at the alpha bearing down on him. He had no idea where these assholes had come from but he wasn’t going to go down easy. Wasn’t going to go down without a fight.
The goddamn tires weren’t worth this but they weren’t after his score. They were after him.
Harem hunters.
When was he going to catch a fucking break?
Stifling a whimper as a boot clipped his ribs, Jason rolled out of the way of the next blow. There! That’s where he dropped it! He grabbed the tire iron as he popped up again, belting it into the stomach of one of his attackers.
Taking advantage of his weapon, he caught one of them a lucky blow to the head a few moments later. He’d seen the other guy babying a knee, though.
He took a chance - hoping he remembered the right one - and slammed the piece of steel into it as hard as he could.
The taste of victory coated Jason’s tongue as the man crumpled but he didn’t stop to savor it.
(It tasted like blood.)
He needed to end the threat. Another strike, straight to the skull, and the second alpha was down.
A soft whimper slipped past his lips as Jason sank to his knees; palm pressed against his ribs where he caught the earlier blow. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing.
Every time.
Every fucking time.
These days, Jason could barely leave his tiny nest before the hunters were on him. He didn’t know what to do. They knew where he holed up but they couldn’t reach it. He needed to move, but couldn’t leave.
Rock, meet hard place.
The crunch of gravel had Jason scrambling to his feet, fingers clenching the iron again. He was so tired. He was so hungry. Blue eyes flicked anxiously towards the alley entrance as he stumbled to turn.
Wait, that was -
“Blackwing?!”
The masked vigilante focused intently on him. He was so fucked. The scent of blood hung heavy in the air and the alphas on the ground were a little too still. Swallowing past the lump in his throat, Jason prepared himself. If he was going away, well... at least it was Blackwing.
Everyone in the Alley knew Blackwing protected the omegas.
Blackwing cared.
It didn’t stop the fear crawling up his spine. He had only been protecting himself. Jason had to protect himself. He had no one else.
His eyes stung with unshed tears.
Later, when he looked back on that moment, all he remembered was the overwhelming anxiety and confusion. What came clearly, though, was being tucked solidly into Blackwing’s side and covered in his unusual alpha scent.
